


The Story of Oliver Hughes

by sharknoodle



Category: Shall We Date?: Obey Me!
Genre: Angst, Asmo Learning the difference between love and lust, Feelings, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Handholding, Kissing, M/M, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, some sizzlin' heat
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-01
Updated: 2020-09-24
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:19:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 12,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26226277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sharknoodle/pseuds/sharknoodle
Summary: What if MC had no brothers to help them? What if MC wasn't the only human in the Devildom?Diavolo got too excited to see MC and made a mistake in the summoning, so someone random might have appeared...A young, British college student fell from the dark sky and landed in the bushes outside of RAD. Scrambled, lost, and confused, he managed to find himself surviving by luck and wit against the odds of being eaten by a lower demon. With the help of MC, Oliver makes himself home where he least expects it and finds a way to return to the Human Realm. But to go home, he needs to make the ultimate sacrifice.
Relationships: (slight), Asmodeus (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)/Original Male Character(s), Asmodeus/Oliver (OC), Lucifer (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)/Original Character(s)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 14





	1. The Other Human

**Author's Note:**

> My Obey Me! OC's story!! It's a complete story that I'll update every week (hopefully no more than 10 chapters eheh...) It's interactive with a non-gendered MC and my first (Y/N) kind of fic! This story was an idea born from a thought I had like, "what if MC was dropped into the Devildom without the brothers, angels, or Solomon to help them out? What would interactions with the other demons be like?" and lo and behold Oliver was created! What I hope you get from this fic is some exploration into the world of the Devildom and what classes in RAD are like!
> 
> **Spoiler warning!** Quick note: This fic takes place during the events of season 1 (lessons 1-20) of Obey Me! so there are spoilers! No material of the new season, though!

Hell was a lot different than Oliver expected. After years of studying the Bible, he never imagined Hell’s scenery to be a school. He can understand why, though. He yawned, rested his chin on his hand, and slouched lazily on the desk. 

The teacher’s ragged voice drones on and on about something called the “Celestial War”, but it seems to be the same story he’d studied in all his theology classes in grade school. Studying history used to be his passion, but because of the impending notion that he was to spend eternity here it became his damned punishment. Knowing the material already, he stares gloomingly out the window next to him.

Outside in the courtyard, a three-eyed crow pokes its beak at a corpse of a burnt lizard five times its own size. The lizard’s body bounces slightly at each peck. The monstrous bird suddenly sinks its black beak into the reptile’s crisp flesh and swiftly flings its head backward, launching the large corpse into the air. As the lizard gracefully falls back down the three-eyed crow unhinges its beak to reveal several rows of small, needle-like teeth. In one blink, Oliver watches the cat-sized lizard disappear into the raptor-like crow’s mouth. Yep, this is Hell. 

Oliver sighs and lets himself give in to all the thoughts he pushed aside since three days ago. Oh jeez, has it already been three days?? It’s already felt like a month so far. Oliver then wonders if measurements of time even matter now that he’s dead and in Hell.

“Oh yeah, that’s what I was thinking about,” he brings himself back to his previous train of thought. He trails back to three days ago ( _three days???_ ) and remembers the clear blue sky on the day he died. He closed his eyes and re-plays the memory again.

* * *

Not a single cloud was seen, truly a rare sight in London. The leaves on the trees had just started to brown for autumn’s arrival. It rained the night before, so puddles were spilled throughout the cement and the air was heavy and moist. Oliver’s pale, teal- colored hair was wet from just the dew in the air and matted to his forehead, neck, and cheeks. His beloved bass was trapped to his back as he strolled down the road at a slow pace. His large, rectangular glasses fogged and blocked his sight, but he continued moving forward. It was the last day of practice for his band, River Runners, before their last performance at the Windmill. After the performance the band planned to break up and each will go their own separate ways. Oliver groaned. His conversation with the drummer the night before haunted him: “It’s inevitable, Ollie,” Moo said. “We all have to grow up at some point.”

“Why couldn’t we just ‘grow up’ together?” Oliver cursed under his breath. He kicked a rock swiftly with his right foot, scaring away a few crows. He was walking in the middle of the street. Luckily, traffic was dead in that area; although, honestly, Oliver couldn’t care less. What was he to do without the band? He met his friends through a youth group in his family’s church, back when Patrick had his dead name, Emily, and Clarence was the only child in church who still believed in Santa Claus. God, they were only 8 years old then. Moo was actually a family friend of Clarence’s, and they met up at his house every weekend on Saturdays to share comic books and toy around with Moo’s instruments. For years they practiced their favorite punk songs and actually became a band that was good enough to play at the Windmill, a popular concert venue for small bands like River Runners. For years, they were a happy quartet of lads jamming along to their own tune without a care in the world. Life was perfect, but Moo just _had_ to marry his precious girlfriend, Patrick just _had_ to quit uni to travel the world, and Clarence-

Suddenly Oliver’s left foot lost balance, and the rest of his body followed. In the instant he started going backward, he quickly flung his bass forward and hugged it - he absolutely could not afford to break his bass, especially THIS bass. He closed his eyes and braced for impact…for a little longer than he expected. 

He was still falling until the moment he opened his eyes in confusion. Finally, at impact, he shrieked in pain. Several sharp things met his back and limbs. He winced as they grazed and scratched at his denim jacket, leaving white marks and threads flying everywhere. Small, green leaves poked at his face with short, thin thorns. Scared to move, he stayed put with his legs sprawled out and his arms wrapped around his bass like it was his last hope for sanity. His eyes peered frantically around him.

Of course, with a scream like that, people stared. A large crowd formed around him with folks whispering and laughing. But Oliver instantly knew there was something...wrong. The snickering was bitter, and everyone was smiling as if they were enjoying this spectacle of a man and his bass falling into a bush out of nowhere a little _too_ much. The more peculiar thing, however, was all these people had **horns** . Small horns, big horns, horns twisted in all ways, all on everyone’s heads like a Halloween party. If Oliver cared to look more carefully, he could have sworn there were people who also had wings and tails. But he was too busy with the fact that these people - no, _creatures_ \- were looking at him like a cooked steak and getting closer and closer every second!  
Life instantly came back to his limbs and he flung himself out of the thorny clutches of the bush and darted to the left. He ran without a second thought to any direction away from the hungry crowd. The road ended at a dark forest where there were less _monsters_ staring at him and kept running into the darkness. Sweating and panting with panic, he didn’t stop until he found a large tree and dove behind it. He hugged his bass again instinctively and sank into one of the deep crevices between the tree’s roots. Minutes passed and Oliver finally slowed his breath to somewhat normal. His heart was still beating rapidly, and he shook uncontrollably as he peered over the side of the tree’s root. No more monsters in sight. He sighed in relief and tears immediately down-poured from his eyes. He gripped his bass tighter and brought it closer to his chest. Oliver wept alone and afraid in the dark wood. Horns, monsters, darkness - there’s no doubt about it. He had died and been sent to Hell.

* * *

He sniffled. Thinking about it brought the tears back, so he refocuses back to the teacher’s monotone voice echoing throughout the classroom. He takes the corner of his sleeve and wipes his wet nose. If he isn’t careful enough, one of the horned students next to him will notice and exploit it immediately. Demons, he had learned, are very cunning when they see him react emotionally to something. Crying would initiate teasing, and teasing will initiate poking, and poking usually gets followed by more physical attacks that could leave more bruises. Oliver’s back was already covered in purple blotches that ached whenever he moved. He glared at his classmates. They looked like normal humans at first, but when they get excited their true nature forms with horns sprouting from their scalps and tails or wings manifesting out of dark, violet smoke. After two days of horrendous bullying, Oliver learned how to keep his head low and undisturbed in class. This is Hell, after all - or, as the devils here call it, the Devildom - so this torture is sort of expected. 

The teacher uses their long claws to scratch a diagram of an angel’s true form into the chalkboard instead of using chalk, shattering everyone’s eardrums to the point of near deafness. “The school’s budget must be astronomical to afford new chalkboards every day,” Oliver thought. Covering his ears, he watches in awe how the students only wince slightly in response to the sound. “Are they used to this? Dear God I don’t want to be.” He wonders why he was sent here in the first place. Is it because he became agnostic after his parents raised him to be a proper Anglican? Was it because he once took a fancy to his friend, Patrick? Or was it because he forgot to say “Bless you” to that elderly lady who sneezed next to him at the station last week?

The grinding claws finally stop, and the teacher moans something about the next section. More lectures. Oliver begins to space out again.

* * *

After he stopped crying, he recollected himself and decided the best thing to do was find a way back to the road he was just on. Problem was: he had no bloody idea where he was.

The only way to figure that out was to look around, so Oliver wiped away his tears with his shredded jacket sleeve and stood up. He carefully poked his head out of the corner of the tree and searched for any horned folk. None to be seen. The grey cobblestoned street is empty. Sighing in relief, Oliver grips his bass tight and emerges from behind the tree. He tiptoes toward the street with a sloth’s pace until an ear-piercing ringing of a bell sounds. It sounds suspiciously like the school bell that he heard in grade school that would signal the beginning of class. Finally Oliver noticed the large, brick walls and the black iron gates beyond the bushes that cushioned his fall. The elaborate design on the top of the iron gates had tendrils of loops that cleverly spelled the words, “Royal Academy of Diavolo.” Before his eyes, the brick walls seemed to have mounted over each other like stone beasts until a giant castle was formed. Was this Germanic, Gothic, or Romanesque architecture? Oliver was too busy marveling at the size and beauty of the castle to notice the angry woman with crossed arms and her foot tapping furiously in front of the open gate. 

“You!! Human!!” she screeched with a high pitched voice. Oliver snapped to attention and looked at her with wide eyes. She was fuming - literally, with violet smoke billowing around her. She had small twisted horns that framed her round, brown face, and small black bird wings that were twitching angrily. Other than that, she looked like a usual frustrated office-worker with her sapphire, cat-eyed glasses, low-neck top and black pencil skirt. Unlike the other creatures, she didn’t look at him like a meal, but as a pain in the rear end.

“You’re already late to class!! If we don’t register you now you’ll be behind on your tasks!” She motions for him to follow her as she walks behind the gates and toward the castle. Frazzled and confused, Oliver found no other choice but to follow her. 

“Lucifer called and told me an incident happened in your summoning that would cause you to be late, but this is ridiculous!”

Up close, she couldn’t have been more than four feet tall. She’s definitely not a threat, so far, Oliver thought. She continued complaining as she led Oliver through the majestic entrance hall, and he couldn’t help but gaze in awe at everything around him. The mosaic windows depicted scenes of angels falling from the heavens and building a kingdom in a dark realm of trees and monsters, all in various pieces of colored glass in vibrant hues. The dome ceiling above him resembled that of Michelangelo’s work, but with the scene of a war between angels and demons. Oliver squinted to study the more intricate details - the only source of light was the dim candlelight from the little chandeliers that were sprinkled sparsely throughout the ceiling.

The voice of the secretary lady grew more and more distant until she yelled, “Human!! For the sake of Diavolo, close your damned mouth and get over here!” Oliver’s open mouth clamped shut and he snapped his head back to the lady’s direction. She was already at the end of the hall next to a large red door. Next to it, she looked like a toddler. It towered over them almost comically, with sigils of ancient languages inscribed throughout its wooden panels. The secretary lady wrapped her fingers, which had long blue nails like claws, over one of the sigils that looked somewhat like a peacock. She muttered something under her breath and the sigil glowed under her hand. The enormous door groaned, and tilted itself open with a sigh. The lady’s blue heels clacked quickly as she stepped inside. Oliver followed.

Inside was a neat and organized office that would put his own university’s dean’s office to absolute shame. A large, circular mosaic window greeted the entry on the far wall with an elaborate design of a glorious peacock proudly entertaining the viewer with its feathers. Each of the peacock's feathers had sparkling diamonds the center of their "eyes," making the remainder of the room dim and boring in comparison. However, the rest of the room was still impressive: the walls were painted black and decorated with azure undertones; shelves of books wrapped the space like a flock of birds; scrolls were neatly placed in pyramids atop of a wide obsidian desk. 

“Are you just gonna stand there or are you gonna get your stuff?” Oliver flinched and stepped into the office toward her desk. She was already behind it searching for things in its drawers. Oliver watched in silence as she pulled out from beneath the desk a three-inch stack of paper, a brown suitcase, and some yellow rubber gloves. She took the gloves for herself and inhaled deeply as she put them on. She reached underneath the desk again, holding her breath with full cheeks, and pulled out a small, inch-tall vial. Then she immediately thrusted her arm with it towards him, motioning for him to grab it. The gestures got more and more frantic until he finally reached his shaking hand out and took it. He cleared his throat, and with a small whisper he asked, “What is this?”

She let go of her breath and pinched her nose. “Motherfu-" she gags, as if whatever was in the vial smelled so terrible she couldn't speak coherently. "Ugh-Holy water…” she answered. “You only get that much, so use it wisely." She gags again, and points her claw-like finger at him. "Do _not_ , I repeat, do _NOT_ , think to use it on any of the student council, especially not **Diavolo**. Unless you want to die that badly.”

Releasing her nose, she went on to explain the other items. In between complaining about the smell, she explained that the papers were the documents and schoolwork he had to get started on right away, and the suitcase had his uniforms and other materials needed for class. 

“We cleared a room for you in Purgatory Hall, but you better move in there fast before some Greed rascal uses it to store its treasure stash. It’s right outside of this main building, to the left. Big grey building. You cannot possibly miss it.” 

Oliver finally released his grip on his bass - his knuckles were white from holding it so tight - and let it swing to his back. He took a breath, and started gathering his new belongings from the desk. The lady sat in her chair, watching impatiently. Her left eye twitched. 

“Did you forget you have _class_?! Pick up the pace!” she scolded. Oliver anxiously grabbed everything in an arbitrary manner, struggled to assemble everything in a carry-able grip, and ran out of the office in a frenzy. 

Outside of the black iron gates and to the left, like she said, stood a proud grey brick building with similar gates. In smooth, loopy letters, the iron gates said, “Purgatory Hall.” Oliver, still scared by the secretary and afraid of any other onlooking monsters, ran to the gates.

* * *

The final bell of the day rings, and Oliver’s daydreaming comes to an end. As the teacher attempts to detail tonight’s assignments, all the demonic students dash to the exit in a frenzy. Desks are knocked over, some students get trampled, and papers are flying everywhere. Like usual, Oliver waits for everyone to leave, and for the teacher to walk out depressed with his head down. Once the teacher’s tail is out of sight from the door, Oliver grabs his things and carefully steps over the papers and trampled victims on the floor as he exits. 

How much more of this life in the Devildom can he take? He’ll just have to see for himself.


	2. This New Timeline

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The royal butler knows of the other human's arrival, and considers what to do about him. From what he knows of fate, this timeline would become very fascinating.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was so much fun since I got to look into how Barbatos thinks with the ability to see other realities and stuff! And we get a mini prologue of the main story, right before MC appeared! 
> 
> A fair warning: there is cursing and bad language in this chapter!

“Hey, have you heard?”

“Heard what?”

“About the human exchange student”

“Hah, which one? Both are a real eyesore.”

“No, there’s a third one.”

Barbatos’s ears catch the whispers of the demons walking by in the halls of RAD. He stands alone in front of the door to the student council office, where Diavolo and Lucifer are meeting in private. The teal-eyed butler stares idly at the scarlet walls facing him, beyond all the staring from the demonic students walking past. He knows they do not find himself to be a spectacle, but it’s peculiar that he is alone without the Young Master. Little do they know their own parts in the overarching play that he sees unravel in every second. His magnificent ability to see every timeline and reality at once gifts him with the rare amusement of watching events, even those as small and insignificant as casual conversations in the hallway, pass in front of him like a performance of his favorite play. The actors execute their lines perfectly without realizing, or they would make an unexpected change to the timeline that would alter their reality. Either way, witnessing the ever twisting chain of events was always quite fun. Today’s performance is especially interesting, as he finally confirms the uneasiness he felt from three days ago.

“What the hell are you talking about?” a student asks in response to the rumor.

“The other human, another normal one! He’s not a wizard like Solomon, and he’s living in Purgatory Hall!” the gossiping demon answers.

“Nuh-uh, he’s gotta be living with the High Brothers in the House of Lamentation,” the cynical one corrects.

“No, no, no- that’s the OTHER human who’s not a wizard!” the gossiper defends. “THIS one is in Purgatory Hall! And the brothers have no idea he’s here!”

“I-wait-what?! No way.”

Oh my, Barbatos thinks to himself, so now it’s _that_ timeline. The gossiping demon is correct; the seven brothers nor Diavolo know of this mysterious human’s presence, but _he_ does. And the role this human visitor will play in this school is very fascinating.

* * *

“If you wish, my Young Master, I may summon the second human student,” Barbatos offered to the Demon Prince. The Young Master and himself, as well as six of the seven demon brothers, are gathered in the student council meeting room. The exchange students from the Celestial Realm had already announced their arrival, and Solomon appeared by himself through a portal and had just left the room to move into Purgatory Hall. The other student, however, had to be summoned from the Human Realm through a spell for they were just a normal human being. Barbatos bowed politely as he stated his offer to the Prince. Diavolo, however, grinned wide and shook his head in rejection.

“Ah, thank you, Barbatos! But what’s the fun in that?” Diavolo replied. “I haven’t summoned anything in quite a millennia!”

Barbatos’s eyes widened with surprise. So it’s _that_ timeline, then, Barbatos thought. The Demon Prince’s decision to summon this human himself was a rare occurrence in which only two options were available: either he would succeed or fail, both leading to thousands of vastly different stories. This play suddenly became a lot more interesting.

“As you wish, my Lord,” Barbatos bowed again respectfully. He drew a long, pen-shaped piece of white clay from his uniform jacket’s pocket. “I shall commence drawing the sigil.” He knelt down on the floor and began encrypting the intricate details of the summoning spell.

“Ugh, this is taking too long,” the envious third born whined. Leviathan tugged at his uniform’s collar impatiently. His purple and orange eyes kept racing back and forth from Barbatos’ design and the door. “Sucre Frenzy’s going live tonight and I gotta be the first streamer to log on so I can win the top 10 log-in prize! They said it’s a mystery but all the rumors have it that it might be their new upcoming album-“

“Fuck, Levi! Can you shut up?!” the angry fourth brother snapped. Satan’s left eye twitched in rage. If Leviathan had continued for a second longer he would have unleashed his usual tantrum, inflicting damage on not only his poor brother, but on the rest of the meeting room. Barbatos secretly appreciated Satan’s quick interruption, for it saved a lot of work in cleaning and repairs.

The proud eldest, who was standing by Diavolo’s right side, ignored his brother’s petty complaints. As usual, he strived to serve the Demon Prince. “Diavolo, would you like some assistance?” he offered. His face stayed cold and neutral as his siblings argued and bickered behind him.

“Thank you, Lucifer, but I should be fine!” Diavolo assured. His grin grew wider. “I’m thrilled to see what this human you chose looks like. Meeting a human that meets the Avatar of Pride’s standards is so exciting!”

Lucifer quietly gulped and nodded. “Good luck, then, my Lord.”

“Young Master, the sigil is ready,” Barbatos rose from his knees and swiped off any remaining clay from his gloves. The resultant design was a large circular pattern incorporating the spell’s incantation in the ancient language of the Devildom and the royal family’s crest, as well as each of the symbols for the Avatars of Sin. In the center he made sure to include the word, “Human,” in large, archaic letters. Barbatos scrutinized his work and searched for any imperfections - none were found. All that was left was the potion and the incantation.

“Wonderful work as always, Barbatos!” the Prince praised his butler. He stepped closer to the outer edge of the sigil and stood proudly with his chest high. “I’m ready to call the human!”

“Here is the potion, my Lord,” Barbatos reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small, inch-tall vial. In it were two equally-measured black and red liquids. He gave the vial a good shake to mix them, and the mix turned dark brown with small black and white sediments sticking to the sides of the glass.

“Ew, what is that?” the beautiful fifth born asked. Asmodeus’s face twisted in disgust.

“If there’s any left after, I dare you to taste it,” the greedy second born joked. Mammon loved playing with his younger brother’s fondness for all things lovely and graceful-looking. "Or I can bet 500 Grimm that I can!"

“I don’t know,” the hungry sixth brother said with a worried look. “It doesn’t look like it would taste very good.” Beelzebub took an extra large bite out of his hell bat sandwich and rubbed his stomach. Barbatos secretly hoped he was not looking forward to eating the human, or they would have to do this summoning ceremony all over again.

“You are correct,” Barbatos informed. “This potion contains the essence of Celestial sky and the blood of the Royal Devildom family line. I’m sure the taste of both combined would taste quite awful.” He wrinkled his nose at the smell it gave off - it reeked of the scent of Holy Water and sulfur. He handed the foul-smelling brown concoction to the Prince, who’s toothy grin grew even wider.

“Alright! Let’s meet this human student!” He flicked the cap of the vial off with his thumb and poured its contents onto the sigil immediately. The brown liquid spilled crudely all over the elaborate details of white clay. He cleared his throat and began reciting the spell in the ancient tongue:

> “Oh great forces of darkness,
> 
> I call upon you as the heir of the Demon King.
> 
> My family exists to serve you and spread the word of evil across all Realms.
> 
> On this day I grant a humble request:
> 
> Reach into the world of the mortal
> 
> And bring forth the human to the depths of devil kind.”

Barbatos sighed. The Young Master, lost in his confidence, forgot the name of the human as well as what location for them to appear. The butler peered at Lucifer standing behind him. The Avatar of Pride’s facial expression was pale and extremely concerned. The other brothers, however, simply watched in slight amusement. Even Satan, who studied ancient spells in great length noticed the mistake, hid his smile behind his hand and snickered. Barbatos returned to face the Prince, who was still smiling in excitement at the sigil. Despite the mistake, the summoning sigil began to glow with an eerie white illumination and tendrils of white smoke rose from its edges. As they grew, they reached into the center like long vines and twisted into a spherical gray cloud. The orb-like cloud suddenly grew into twice the size of the Demon Prince himself and shined a bright violet light with sparks of lightning that illuminated the entire meeting room.

“ACK!” exclaimed Mammon.

“TOO BRIGHT!” yelled Leviathan.

“MY PRECIOUS EYES!!!” shrieked Asmodeus.

“Hm,” said Beelzebub. He finished his sandwich and licked his fingers.

In a quick flash, the orb condensed into a ball the size of a fist and - vanished. The wispy smoke stopped and the glowing light of the sigil dimmed to normal. All eight demons in the room stood in awkward silence. “Haha, oops,” the Prince of the Devildom laughed nervously and scratched his head.

“Wait, what happened?” asked Mammon. He looked around the room. “Where’s the human?”

“Diavolo forgot to say that it should be summoned in the room,” Satan explained. “So the spell didn’t work.”

Lucifer pinched the skin between his eyebrows and groaned. “And the name,” he added. “Hopefully no one was actually summoned. An unknown human wandering around the Devildom would be a problem.”

“Can I eat them, then?” Beelzebub asked. His mouth drooled at the thought.

“They wouldn’t be an official exchange student, so I don’t care.”

Barbatos suddenly got an unusual feeling. He felt the faint presence of a summoned being, a weak signal of a human soul. However, it was nowhere in this room. He felt it from somewhere outside, perhaps outside of the Academy. Lucifer’s fear was in fact realized. The butler looked at the Prince and the brothers. None of them seemed to notice as they were too busy discussing Diavolo’s mistake and how to improve his incantation. Seeing that no one else felt the presence of this mysterious visitor, the butler decided to keep the secret to himself. If they were in the timeline in which a mysterious human appeared outside of the exchange program, the probability of them causing an issue was very low. There was only one possible timeline where that human would actually meet the student council, and that is only if they manage to survive long enough in RAD. The sense of uneasiness waned, yet still lingered, as Barbatos approached Diavolo.

“My Lord, are you ready to recite the spell again?” he asked. He pulled out another vial from his jacket. Knowing about this timeline being possible, he made sure to pack an extra vial just in case.

“If you think I’ll succeed this time, then I’m ready!” The Prince received the vial and twisted off the cap.

* * *

The sense of unease finally ceases as Barbatos listens to the rest of the students’ rumors.

“It’s true! Mephistopheles said he’s in History of the Celestial War with him! A couple of us found him leaving that classroom the other day and gave him a warm welcome to the Devildom!” the gossiping demon sneered.

“No wayyy, you should’ve told me!” the second demon laughed. “I haven’t tasted human souls in years! You’re sure he’s not a wizard?”

“One hundo percent, man. He whimpers whenever we poke him around and doesn’t cast a single spell to protect himself. We’re just playing around with him until we get bored. Then we’ll figure out who gets to eat his soul.”

“Sounds fair. Let me know when you see him again!”

The butler chuckles softly to himself. It appears that he was correct; the unknown human visitor will not survive for long. However, it would be quite amusing to see how he manages to reside in the Devildom. It has been ages since the days before the Royal Academy was established when regular humans dropped into the Devildom every day and their souls were consumed by frenzies of rabid devils. Because of the Academy, demons these days are far more honourable and refined than they were back then, but the same malicious nature is still intact. For the sake of curiosity, Barbatos decides once again to keep this information from Diavolo - unless he wishes to know about it, of course. The door of the student council office swings open, and Diavolo’s roar of laughter rings out. The joyful Prince of darkness steps out and continues laughing into the hallway.

“Lucifer, (Y/N) is only a human, yet they’ve already managed to get under your skin in the first three days!” He turns to Barbatos and greets him with a friendly wave of his hand. “Shall we go home, Barbatos?”

“As you wish, Young Master,” Barbatos replied. “You have no other plans today.”

“Great! I can’t wait to try your new casserole recipe.” Diavolo turns his head back to the office. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Lucifer!” A soft groan from the office replies, and the Prince leaves with his butler.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked it! :D Comments and feedback are welcome!!


	3. The Higher Brothers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oliver's life in the Devildom is just starting to get easier as he makes a normal routine to survive. He starts to notice the small things that he didn't when he first arrived, such as the face of a demon that caught his eye...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one was really fun to write! I explored Oliver's perceptions of other demons and the Demon Brothers throughout everyday school life! Enjoy!

Gripping his vial of Holy Water in his palm, Oliver winces as the professor uses his claws again to carve a map of the Celestial Realm on the board. Oliver presses his earplugs a little further into his ears. He traded some of his extra uniform items - insignia that represented him as a human exchange student, such as the RAD medallion that said, “Human” in a miniature encryption - to a greedy lesser demon for some money to buy earplugs from the school store. The short, yellow-eyed demon gave him a bag of golden coins, which he said was 500 “Grimm.” Oliver still doesn’t understand the currency system here, but all he cared about was getting something of value to buy earplugs. The earplugs were a VERY good investment; the sound of the claws scraping are now less dreadful and easy to bear. In fact, after six months, everything became more bearable for Oliver. He can probably say things are starting to get a little boring.

The cruel demons who bothered him everyday became bored with toying with him and soon after started looking at him like he was a freshly-cooked meal. Since then he started carrying his small tube of Holy Water in his hand everywhere, and everyone stays at least ten feet (if possible) away from him. The students sitting in the desks next to him lean as far away from him as possible, clamping their noses with their fingers and giving him nasty glares. His heavily bruised back finally healed, and he no longer has to hide in the hallways on his way to class. With the Holy Water in hand, life in the Devildom instantly became much more peaceful.

Time flew by much faster without anyone attacking him anymore, so recently he started noticing smaller and interesting things around him, like the way demons had cell-phones called “DDD’s” that they used to communicate, or how the cafeteria’s food tries to add different kinds of food every week according to frequent requests from someone called “Beelzebub.” Oliver quickly learned that he was in fact the Lord of the Flies himself, and one of the seven Avatars of Sin, who just so happen to be the student council of this wicked academy. The other students at school referred to them as the High Brothers and feared them incredibly. He’s caught glimpses of some of them on his way to class, and some are in his classes, but never had the chance or courage to get a closer look. They’re the elite of the school, and they make sure to separate themselves from the inferior crowd. They’re like gods among vermin; they eat in a separate dining area in the cafeteria, closed off by glass walls and elevated ten feet above everyone else with elegant staircases twisting high on each side. Every room they step into always falls quiet, and every student and teacher greets them by title, name, and “Sir” when they pass by. After Oliver learned how to survive among the common demons, he began observing the elite from small instances throughout the day.

He sees the eldest, Lucifer, giving weekly announcements on the stage of the auditorium with the class president, Diavolo, and his mysterious butler-like companion standing beside him. Oliver never imagined the Devil himself to be so… elegant. Or is Diavolo the Devil? Is there just one Devil? He had no idea anymore. Oliver could see why Lucifer was designated the Avatar of Pride; his speeches are long and elaborately spoken, as if they were written for him to listen to the sound of his own voice. It’s hard to stay awake during them, but the coldness in his eyes strikes fear into every fiber of Oliver’s body. When Oliver looks around to look at the rest of the audience he can see that every other demon feels the same; everyone sits straight up and at attention when he speaks, as if he saw anyone with their back rested Lucifer would approach them and rip their limbs off. Following the crowd, Oliver sits the same way, watching the Avatar of Pride smile at all their obedience.

As for the other brothers, Oliver mostly sees them in class. The Avatar of Greed, who the teacher calls as Mammon, is in his Advanced Calculus With Matrix Theory class and he sits in the front seat closest to the door - if he’s in class at all. All that Oliver gets to see of him is the white hair on the back of his head and his disheveled uniform. Even as one of the elite student council members, he dresses in uniform quite poorly. Oliver sees him on his phone - no, DDD - throughout all of class time. To Oliver’s surprise the teacher doesn’t seem to care; usually, teachers would hang students upside down from the classroom ceiling if they were caught sleeping or playing on their DDD’s during class. But whenever the teacher calls on the High Brother, Mammon would immediately answer the question correctly without looking up from his DDD. Sometimes the question would be a multi-step problem that takes the teacher an hour to solve, yet Mammon would answer it correctly in seconds. Oliver is amazed, and slightly frightened, at the Higher demon. He still thinks it’s best not to disturb him.

The Avatar of Envy, called Leviathan, is in Oliver’s Fundamental Elixirs and Potions class. He almost never attends class unless there’s a grade-impacting quiz or test. Even then, Leviathan keeps to himself and sulks in the corner muttering about something called a “Roo-ree-chawn.” His presence makes the classroom smell like the beach, which reminds Oliver of his favorite childhood holidays. However, Leviathan’s constantly glaring expression with his strange orange and violet eyes is far from friendly, so Oliver tries to stay away from him.

The Avatar of Wrath, unfortunately, is in his Early Age Devildom Literature class. Every day in that class is a living nightmare. Satan takes the time spent in class too seriously, to the point of punishing anyone who dares to disturb the lesson. Oliver made sure on the first day to sit in the furthest seat from that demon. The blonde scholar is a ticking time bomb, and no one knows when he’s about to burst. He usually sits quietly until something sets him off; which could be anything from someone misreading the text, someone reading too slow, or even sneezing. Then he would smile that cold, heartless smile, and go on to punish whoever set off his patience, whether it be bashing their head against the blackboard, tossing them out the window, or grabbing them by the ankles and whipping their body against the floor as if they weighed like nothing. Oliver is grateful that he has that class only once a week.

He doesn’t have any classes with Beelzebub, but that demon’s a spectacle to watch at every lunch. Oliver idly stands in the buffet line with his tray as he watches the monstrously tall Avatar of Gluttony receive not one, not two, but FIVE trays of food at once. Instead of grabbing the food himself, the panicked cafeteria workers scramble to grab as much food as possible for him in the shortest amount of time before he starts complaining. When they take too long, large insect wings sprout from Beelzebub’s back and horns grow out of his scalp. Seething with hunger and rage, he would bend down and lift the buffet tables full of food and carry it to his designated dining area, leaving everyone else in line without anything to eat. So in order for everyone else to get a meal the workers have to satisfy the gluttonous beast as quickly as possible. Unfortunately, this outburst happens at least twice a week, so Oliver grew to despise seeing orange hair during lunchtime.

Oliver didn’t meet the seventh High Brother until after four months of classes. He showed up one day in his Ancient Languages class: when Oliver went to sit in his usual desk in the far corner of the classroom, there was a snoring corpse with dark, highlighted gray hair hunched over it. Oliver stood in front of the desk, and the demon remained snoring. Everyone else kept a large radius away from Oliver, but the demon on his desk stayed put, even with the smell of the Holy Water in Oliver’s hand next to him. So Oliver decided to change his seat to the other side of the classroom. After class ended, and everyone ran out the door in the usual frenzy, the demon was still face down on his desk. Oliver has never seen this guy awake or off this desk; he only sees him snoozing in this classroom. Sometimes he wonders if he’s just a large, snoring doll that someone left there as a joke, but the other demons in the class are as fearful of him as they were with the other High Brothers. They even greet him as the “mighty Belphegor” as they pass by him to sit in their seats. Judging by his constant state of sleep and his name from the other students, Oliver guessed that he must be the Avatar of Sloth. Afraid of what he was like if he woke up, Oliver always keeps his distance.

His fear for the High Brothers is constant; however, there was one Avatar of Sin who fascinated him in a more wondrous, awe-inspiring manner rather than fear. Every day Oliver secretly hopes to get a glimpse of him, maybe even a chance to see his full face. Sights of him are rare - Oliver doesn’t have any classes with him, so the only chances to see him are short instances in the hallway or in the cafeteria. He only gets glimpses of his hair, the sides of his face, and on the rare occasion, his peach-colored eyes. The only way he can see his full face is on the multiple posters on the school walls that detail upcoming events. His face looks like it was sculpted by the ancient Greeks; his pinkish blonde hair reminds him of freshly bloomed magnolias he used to see on his street every spring in London; and his smile is as bright as the sparkling stars in the dark Devildom sky. Oliver would stand still in the hallway or cafeteria, in the way of traffic, and stare in wonder for what seemed like hours - actually minutes - as if he was in an art museum studying a newly discovered Van Gogh painting. At first, Oliver refused to believe that he was a demon - he heard from eavesdropping the conversations around him that there are angels studying in the school for a year, so Oliver thought for a while that his beautiful man belonged to Heaven. However, the posters all over school each label him as Asmodeus, the Avatar of Lust. “Lust?” Oliver thought, “But he seems so sweet and innocent.” Oliver’s naivety causes him to believe that sweet smiles and bright faces mean innocence. “I guess I can’t know or judge what he does in his private time,” he continues, “but he still seems very friendly. I hope I get to meet him someday.” Everyday he hopes for a chance for a conversation with the Avatar of Lust. 

Unfortunately for him, he had already missed his chance and blew it.

* * *

On the weekends, Oliver walks to the arts and music hall with his bass, notebook, and pens to escape into the world of music. For the past few months he would lock himself into an empty music room and work on a long poem describing his past experiences, mostly as a side distraction from all the chaos and insanity around him. One day he decided to make it into a song. After his last class, he grabbed his bass and mini pink notebook from his room and walked to the arts hall. As he walked out of Purgatory Hall, he opened his little notebook and skimmed his poem. It was an ode, so making it into a song would be easy. He hummed a melody that he created as he stuffed the notebook into his back pant pocket.

The best way to enter the music hall without running into demons was through the stage exit in the auditorium, so he walked to the violet, four-meter-tall entrance doors. He gripped the golden door handles tight and leaned backwards, grunting and sweating from the strain. The doors opened slightly, about five centimeters ajar, and he wedged his right elbow into the opportune space. Thrusting his weight onto the right door, Oliver squeezed his slim body through the slowly growing opening while carefully holding his base with his outreached left hand. Once he managed to get himself and his bass through the doors, he sighed in relief and the doors slammed behind him.

The auditorium was completely dark. If he squinted, he could make out the silhouettes of the many, many rows of seats. The auditorium was as expansive as an opera theater; with all the lights on, it was a golden and scarlet-themed Shakespearean-styled theater with velvet curtains and endless seats. In the dark, Oliver could see nothing but the candles lined along the walls that led to the stage in the center. Bass strapped on his back, Oliver reached out his arms to feel for the edge of the stage. Once he felt the familiar mahogany, he swung forth his right leg onto the edge and ever so gracefully rolled onto the stage. More candles along the walls of the stage led to stage exit: Oliver’s safe entry into the music hall. He fumbled his fingertips all over the black walls until his palm hit the cold metal doorknob. He gave it a twist and it made a click sound to open. Suddenly the large doors to enter the auditorium swing ajar and the exposing light from the hallway outside pours into the theater. Someone hums softly from the entrance.

Without wasting a single second Oliver dove behind one of the rows of scarlet curtains on the side of the stage. He tried to relax his breath. The auditorium was still dark, so there was no possible chance that whoever entered saw him. He carefully tilted his head over the side of the curtain to look for the intruder. Standing by the doors that Oliver struggled to open was the silhouette of a slim figure. They had one hand on their hip and the other on the door, as if it was contemplating on entering at all. They hummed in a soft, sweet tone. The humming stopped.

“I swear I left my jacket here somewhere,” the figure whispered. It was a light and songlike voice with a masculine undertone. Oliver swore he heard it before, but he couldn’t recognize it. All he knew is that it was very probable that it was a demon.

“Now where is that pesky light switch?” The figure moved forward and melted into the shadows of the auditorium. The doors slammed shut like usual, sealing the theater into darkness. Footsteps on the marble floor echoed closer and closer to the stage. Oliver trembled in fear; he had to move to the door while it was still dark. He stood up, legs shaking, and reached for the doorknob where he last remembered the door to be. Nothing. He took a few more shaky steps and his hand shivered in the empty void. Finally his fingertips felt something cold and metal - he instantly gripped the handle and twisted it, pulling it towards him. The door cracks open with an earsplitting whine. Oliver winced, but he had to move quickly. With a nearby click sound the stage suddenly filled with light. Oliver froze in shock. Someone giggled.

“I knew someone was fooling around in here,” the bell-like voice said. Slowly, Oliver turned his head toward the voice; a few centimeters to his right he saw the light switch. There was a slender, beautifully manicured hand on the switch. The hand belonged to an extended arm with a pearl-white sleeve, which was only a centimeter away from his arm on the doorknob. A sweet, sultry smell of cologne clouded Oliver’s nose. The demon was standing right behind him. And it was none other than Asmodeus, the Avatar of Lust.

Oliver trembled, sweating all over. He felt heat rise to his face. His eyes were glued to the door to his escape. His head raced with thoughts: _HE’S SO CLOSE WHAT DO I DO WILL HE TRY TO EAT ME LIKE THE OTHERS DO I SAY HELLO HE SMELLS SO_ **GOOD** _STOP THAT’S RUDE SWEET MOTHER OF JES-_

“Now, what do we have here?” Asmo questioned, still giggling. Oliver heard him sniff a couple times, then giggle some more. “Aw, so innocent... But... You’re not a demon. Or an angel. Are you human?” Oliver kept his head low and shivered. Unlike the other demons, this one was trying to strike a conversation first. The change of pace was nice, but Oliver was caught off guard. He couldn’t move or speak. His thoughts were still racing: _I SHOULD TELL HIM WHAT HAPPENED HE COULD PROBABLY HELP ME WAIT NO HE’S ONE OF THE RULERS OF HELL THAT WOULD PROBABLY MAKE IT WORSE OH LORD WHAT DO I DO_ \- The demon waited for an answer, but all Oliver could do was stammer like an idiot.

“I-I, uh, well, you see..”

“And what were you doing here all alone?” Asmo chuckled. “No one’s supposed to be here after school hours except the drama club. Were you doing something naughty? Hoohoo.” He placed his other slender hand on Oliver’s shoulder.

Oliver gasped and jumped as if he was struck by lightning. In one swift motion, he darted through the stage exit and slammed the door behind him and locked it. He sunk down into a ball and held his sweaty, heated face in his hands. It was all too much. He stayed like that for a few minutes until the sound of his bass sliding down his back and tapping the floor woke him up from the daze.

He stood up slowly and walked the rest of the way to the music rooms. He reached into his back pocket and froze. The pink notebook was missing. It’s probably back on the stage, where Asmo -

“I can just rewrite it later,” Oliver told himself. “I don’t need to go back. No reason to go back at all. None whatsoever.” He continued walking to the music rooms.

* * *


	4. The Poem

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Asmo finds a lost notebook on the stage and reads it like the nosy ass he is.

* * *

The Avatar of Lust was left speechless. The blue-haired human he found on stage just slammed the door in front of him. Rude. 

Asmo couldn’t remember the last time he saw a human be so flustered. The scent he gave off was of agape: so innocent and sweet, like fresh fruit. The smell of a desire for someone’s compassion, friendship, and pure love. Not a single trace of erotic intentions, which Asmo always got from everyone he meets. This was a surprise to him, and made him want to know this human more - but the human couldn’t compose himself enough to properly greet him. Not even (Y/N) was a mess like this on the day they were summoned into the Devildom. Other demons, including his adorable lovelies, would swoon immediately at the sight of him and do everything he would command. But this human, however, couldn’t even turn around to look at him! In fact, it pissed Asmo off that this fool didn’t even look at him before closing the stage exit door on him mid-conversation. He didn’t even answer his damn question. Was Asmo too gorgeous for this human to even function? He took it as an extra ego boost and decided to shrug it off. 

“What was that human doing in the Devildom in the first place?” Asmo thought to himself. Asmo knew that long ago humans used to drop into the Devildom at random, so it might still be possible today. He was honestly too annoyed about the door slamming in his face to bother questioning the fool’s existence, anyway. 

He stepped away from the door and started looking around for his jacket. After the morning assembly Asmo was missing his favorite mink jacket all day, so it had to be in here. Out of the corner of his eye a small pink notebook laid on the edge of the stage. Lucifer would have a fit and a half if anything was left on the stage, so it must belong to that weird human. Nothing can stop this demon’s curiosity, so he picked it up and flipped through the pages. 

“Ohoho, little boy,” Asmo sang to himself as he read the contents. “I didn’t know John Donne came to pay a visit. You sure like to write sappy poems, don’t you?” He flipped to the most dog-eared page, an ode: 

> Ode to the Laughter of the Magnolia-Haired Demon 
> 
> O’ cheery song from his lips!
> 
> How bright thy tone rings!
> 
> Heaven’s harps rust with jealousy
> 
> As their songs fail to take the flight
> 
> Of the notes in your joyous tune.
> 
> Sorrow and fear cower at your strength
> 
> As you shake ev’ry fiber of my being.
> 
> In this realm of darkness, you are light.
> 
> A rose in a field of vampiric weeds
> 
> That reach with their petty hands to dampen your song.
> 
> Yet they shiver and tremble at your strength
> 
> As you shake my heart with your voice.
> 
> Dear honey-dewed song of happiness,
> 
> Grant me the pleasure to be your muse!
> 
> My words have naught the slightest ring of your sound,
> 
> And I quiver in awe at your strength.
> 
> Yet as I scribe these mere thoughts
> 
> The fading mem’ry of your melodic voice
> 
> And its blessing upon my ears
> 
> Calm my soul, and beg me
> 
> To be yours.

Asmo held his breath to keep from laughing out loud. He flipped through the other pages and snickered.

“Who _is_ this guy?” He thought.

Many centuries ago, Asmo was the muse for many artists and poets who tried to capture his excellence. Ah, how he missed the days of the Renaissance. He recalled the many visits he made to the Human Realm to arouse painters who begged him to stay with them forever as their muse. So many he had to turn down, and so many gave their lives to be with him. Who knew that such romantics still existed today? Amused, he read a couple more. Some were about his hair, his eyes, his smile - suddenly he froze. He did a double take, and reread this poem several times over: 

> You Should be an Angel 
> 
> Black wings
> 
> Come in four
> 
> With curled ends
> 
> Like tired feathers.
> 
> A halo of horns
> 
> Crowns your head 
> 
> Of golden hair
> 
> Akin to that 
> 
> Of the setting sun.
> 
> Take my dreams
> 
> And make them yours,
> 
> Sweet angel
> 
> Of midnight.

Asmo almost dropped the book in his hands. In just a few words, this man had managed to make the Avatar of Lust shaken to disbelief. Not a single painting or work of literature from mankind depicted him as an angel. Not even prior to the Celestial War. 

Asmo gulped. Everything he does, from makeup to shopping for new clothes to designing his own jewelry, is dedicated to recapture his past beauty. Angels are not allowed to wear accessory, yet his wings donned a natural loveliness that was almost as gorgeous as his brother the Morning Star. After the War, he lost his angel wings and his sense of confidence; without his wings, he never shined as bright or made anyone smile at his appearance as effortlessly as he used to. When he gets compliments, he never feels satisfied. They just become expected results of his work. He fully understands his identity as a demon, the Avatar of Lust, but this simple gathering of words on a page shook him to the core as they addressed him as his past self. 

“He...sees me as an angel?” Asmo thought.

He felt an overwhelming mixture of gratitude, hope, and pain. Then confusion, and then anger.

“Who _is_ this human, and why did he write this?”

The paperbound notebook suddenly started to tear in half, and it was then that Asmo noticed his beautiful hands were clamped tightly on the sides of the notebook. His knuckles were white and he couldn’t stop them from shaking. 

“All this from scribbled notes on a page?” He scoffed. He’s way better than this.

He tossed the damned book on the floor and hopped off the stage. The book landed somewhere with an ugly, papery sound, but Asmo didn’t care. He finally spotted his mink jacket on his seat - in the row saved exclusively for the Brothers - snatched it, and paced out of the auditorium. Stupid human. Probably gonna be eaten by some lesser demon anyway.

* * *


	5. Human Exchange Students

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oliver finally meets the real human exchange student.

The end of the week finally arrives, and Oliver has just finished writing his new song. As he daydreams in his second to last class of the day, he drums imaginary beats with his fingers on the desk. The teacher moans more about the Celestial War as Oliver quietly hums his own tune. He admits to himself that he’s pretty excited to strum his bass and sing again - writing is fun, music is his ultimate way to get his troubles off his mind.

That day, for example, when he was cornered by Asmodeus, he practically ran to the nearest music room and played his favorite songs nonstop for hours. His fingertips were sore and bleeding afterwards. It took many songs to get that encounter off his mind. That was last week, and Oliver had to stop writing for a few days as a break. Most of his fingertips have healed, but he still wears a large bandage on his right thumb.

The bell finally rings, and the usual rush to the door starts. The teacher leaves, holding his nose and glaring at Oliver. He smirks; with the vial of Holy Water, seeing the demons stay away from him and react never got old. Some curse him out, give him the bird, and even spit at him. Oliver would prefer all of that at once than the attacks he got in the beginning of his semester. 

Holy Water in hand, he makes his way to his last class of the day: Spellcasting Fundamentals. This was a class that Oliver actually always looks forward to; after a few weeks, he was able to make things float for a few seconds! If this was where he’s going to spend the afterlife, then he might as well enjoy himself in learning something new. He chuckles at the thought of becoming a wizard, and quickens his pace until he reaches the door to class. 

Suddenly something slams into him and sends him flying backward. His hands instinctively swing behind him and catch his fall, hitting both his palms on the floor. His glasses fall off and fly towards the door. Something shatters in front of him, and the crowd in the hallway pauses all movement during the commotion. Sprawled on the floor, he grunts in pain and slowly lifts his head. Someone in a RAD uniform is standing over him - without his glasses, his vision is extremely blurry. Panicked, he sits up immediately and scoots away until the blurry figure in front of him reassures him with a gentle raised hand.

“I’m so sorry,” they apologized. “Are you ok? Did you hit your head?”

There’s something in their hand. Something small. He squints. It’s a long, slim object that’s shaped like his glasses. Oliver hesitates, then takes it. It is his glasses. He puts them on, amazed they didn’t scratch from his fall, and looks back at the person in front of him. The first thing he sees is the RAD medallion that says, “Human” in small letters.

“You’re human, too??” he exclaims. 

“Yeah!” the person answered, equally as excited. “You’re an exchange student, too?”

“Uh, yes?” He couldn’t really explain how he was thrust into the school by the angry secretary lady on the first day. It’s been so long ago by now that he can hardly recall the events that occurred after he fell into the bushes by the school building.

“Wow!! How did I not meet you yet?? You flew so far under my radar!” Their smile was wide and bright. “My name is (Y/N), nice to meet you!”

“Oh, ‘ello, (Y/N). M-mine is Oliver, Oliver Hughes.” After months of living with demons, a genuinely kind face takes him aback. He’s a little frazzled, but overjoyed to finally meet someone from his own world! 

(Y/N) offers a hand to help him stand up, which he takes. Suddenly his senses come to and he realized his pants are soaked. Confused, he looks in his pockets for a napkin. (Y/N) smiles and offers him a handkerchief with their initials sewn in.

“I’m really sorry about crashing into you,” (Y/N) apologizes. “I made you spill that potion…”

Oliver’s blood runs cold. He looks on the floor and sees what made that shattering sound. Pieces of the glass vial of Holy Water are scattered all over, some on his pants.


	6. Invitation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> MC uses their therapy skills to help Oliver out.

No. No _no no_. _NO NONONONONO **THIS CAN’T BE HAPPENING**_.

The blood escapes from Oliver’s face as he stares at his wet pants. Just when things were starting to look up, his whole plan to survive in this hellscape had crushed right in front of him in an instant. The holy water will dry up and leave him defenseless, and the demons who used to avoid will now swarm him with long-awaited anticipation and -

“Um, Oliver?”

His panic momentarily stops as (Y/N)’s hand reaches out and tentatively taps his shoulder.

“Are you ok?” they ask. They have a worried expression on their face. “If you want, we can skip class and talk somewhere private.”

Oliver gulps and nods. His eyes start to ache, but he does his best not to crumble on the spot. He follows (Y/N) down the hall to an empty classroom. They close the door. Oliver immediately lets go of his composure and tears fall along his cheeks in gross, heavy sobs. All the bottled-up, concealed heartache from since his fall is finally released. (Y/N) wraps him in their arms and he rests his head onto their shoulder, soaking their uniform with his tears and snot. 

For almost half an hour they stand together like this. This was the first time Oliver felt any sort of real comfort from someone. After his tears stop running, he sniffles and wraps his arms around (Y/N) in an appreciative gesture. They pat him on the head.

“There, there,” they reassure him. “It’s going to be alright. What happened?”

Oliver lets go of (Y/N), and steps back. He wipes his nose with the handkerchief they gave him earlier, and sighs. 

“It all started when I died,” Oliver explains. (Y/N) suddenly jolts. 

“Died???” they ask quizzingly.

“Yes! I fell, sort of,  _ through _ the street and…” He describes the experience of falling into the Devildom and (Y/N) nods understandably.

“That’s crazy,” they reply when he finishes. “I had that exact feeling before I was called into this place. I thought I died or I was dreaming, but Lucifer told me right away that I am very much alive.”

“W-wait - THE Lucifer?”

“Yeah, I live with him.”

“WHAT.”

“And the other brothers.”

Oliver’s jaw dropped. Nevermind the possibility of being alive - this person was LIVING WITH THE SEVEN RULERS OF HELL. AND SURVIVED. HOW??

He grabbed (Y/N)’s shoulders and looked into their eyes. They smile politely but sweat nervously as he stares into them.

“Be completely honest with me, (Y/N)” he starts. He takes a deep breath. “Are you under their spell and being used as their human servant?”

(Y/N)’s face cracks into a satirical expression and howls in laughter. 

“They can only WISH” they reply. “They made me stay with them because there was no room in Purgatory Hall.”

Suddenly Oliver recalls how there was only one room left in Purgatory Hall when he arrived. 

“Oh. That’s my fault. I took it.”

“Ah, that explains it.”

Oliver lowers his arms. What was this person’s secret to surviving this long in the jaws of the beast?

“The brothers are a lot more chill than you think,” (Y/N) explains. “I think if you met them you would understand this place a lot better.”

Oliver recalls the fifth brother, and smiles. But then he remembers last week’s encounter and shakes his head.

“Nuh-huh. No can do.”

“Aw, alright,” (Y/N) pouts. “But you’re always invited to the House of Lamentation to visit me!”

“I truly appreciate it, love. Thank you.”

“Is it ok if I reach out to someone to help you out? You seemed pretty stressed out there.”

Oh, right, the holy water. The thing that kept him alive all this time, that is now destroyed. Oliver explains the situation, to which (Y/N) nods and snickers.

“Oh man, if only I had my hands on that with the brothers,” they sneer. “I would have made pacts with them a long time ago.”

“Pacts?”

“It’s a long story,” (Y/N) sighs. The bell to signal the end of class rings. “I’ll tell you more about it later. Right now Mammon is probably looking for me. Wanna meet me at the House of Lamentation later?”

“S-sure,” Oliver hesitates. Sounds like meeting the brothers will be inevitable if he’s getting help from (Y/N). “As long as you keep me with you.”

“Hm.” (Y/N) pinches their chin in thought. “Then I’ll just walk you there myself! Stay here, I’ll be right back.” They give Oliver a reassuring pat on the shoulder before they leave the classroom. On the other side of the door he can see the white hair of the Avatar of Greed waiting for his human companion. Damn, he’s like a pet hawk - how did he know they were here? After exchanging a few words, Mammon pouts like a child and begrudgingly walks away. (Y/N) steps back into the classroom and grabs Oliver’s hand. 

“Let’s get going!”


	7. Visitor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucifer hears some news, and Oliver visits the House.

So far, today was an excellent day. The coffee Lucifer had this morning was perfectly made by (Y/N). Today’s lunch was his favorite: backstabbing sandwiches with the side of mild princess poison. Mammon knelt before him and apologized for trying to steal the courtyard statues. Satan has yet to try to curse him, but at the council meeting this morning he still seemed to be in the planning phase; so Lucifer probably will not see anything go in effect until tomorrow. And, the best part: all his paperwork for the day is done, so he can go home right after class. He earned an extra hour of listening to his favorite cursed records in his study.

The last bell of the day rings, and Lucifer stands up from his chair. His desk, neatly organized with piles of folders and paperwork, will be taken care of by the school secretary. The demon in question hustles over in her blue business suit, her sharp heels clacking along the way. She scrambles to grab all the folders as Lucifer departs from the office.

“I will organize this all into their files, my proud Sir,” she says. 

“Thank you,” Lucifer replies. 

She freezes, some papers fall to the floor. Lately he’s been saying that, but it still freaks her out sometimes. The Avatar of Pride rarely showed any gratitude to his underlings, but since that human, (Y/N), started living in the House of Lamentation he’s been more… kind. If you told Lucifer four months ago that he would be thanking his workers everyday because of some human who entered his life, he would have scoffed in disbelief. He leaves the office, smiling.

Outside of the academy gates the usual crowd from classes starts to congregate. Demons left and right gather to make plans and leave the academy together. Among them are his own brothers. Separated from them is Asmodeus, who is surrounded by his own underlings, the incubi, giggling and enjoying themselves in the latest gossip. Leviathan and Satan are pestering Mammon, who is red in the face and yelling loudly. Beelzebub munches on a backstabbing sandwich next to Belphegor, who is yawning and watching the commotion. 

“So (Y/N) finally got tired of you, huh, Mammon?” Satan sneered.

“NO, THEY SAID-” Mammon shouted.

“LOLOLOLOL it’s about time,” Leviathan interrupted. 

“It was bound to happen at some point,” Belphegor contributed, snickering as well. “He’s always by their side, that’s gotta be suffocating for them.”

“STOP IGNORING ME!!!” Mammon yelled. His face was red like a tomato. “THEY SAID THEY WANTED TO WALK HOME WITH A NEW FRIEND.”

They all freeze, including Lucifer, who was still approaching. All their faces become grim. 

“Walk…”

“Home…”

“With…”

“A…”

“New…”

“...Friend?” Lucifer’s face twitches in anger. All five of them turn to face him. Mammon gulps.

“ _Maaaaammmonnnnnnnnnnn_ ,” Lucifer calls. “Explain. Who is this ‘new friend?’”

“Heh,” Mammon hesitates. “I...don’t know. (Y/N) was pretty insistent that they be left alone after class.”

“But you didn’t bother to ask who they were going with?”

“Hey! I’m not gonna disrespect people’s boundaries if they want to have their privacy!! How terrible do you think I am?!”

The Avatar of Envy grinned and snickered. “You sent a crow familiar to watch them, didn’t you?”

“N-NO I DIDN’T.”

Lucifer sighs. So much for his hour of relaxation. Now he has to worry about this unknown visitor. He crosses his arms and addresses all five of his brothers.

“All of you know that everyone who wishes to enter the House of Lamentation must be approved by me.” 

“A lecture right now? Right in front of the school? Really?” Belphegor whines.

“This is all your fault, Mammon,” Leviathan complains.

“How???” Mammon snaps back.

“Quiet, all of you! You all know the security protocol for the House of Lamentation…”

  
  


Meanwhile, Oliver tries not to panic as he follows his new friend to the den of the Seven Rulers of Hell. Without a vial of holy water, too. He still holds (Y/N)’s hand as they walk out of the gates of the Royal Academy. His palms are clammy with sweat, which worries him more about (Y/N)’s thoughts about him.

“You’ll be fine, I promise!” (Y/N) tells him. They give him a wide, friendly smile. He tries to smile back.

“I’m so glad to meet another normal human being!”

“M-Me too… normal?”

“Yeah, there’s another human here, but he’s a wizard. His name is Solomon. He’s also never a huge help unless there’s something to gain for himself.”

“Wizard??” Oliver’s head spins in confusion.

“Anyway, where are you from? In the Human Realm?”

“I’m from London, England.” He tries not to think too hard of how much he still doesn’t know about this Devildom place. It hurts his brain just thinking about it.

The two humans walk the rest of the way exchanging information about their past lives. Oliver becomes a little more relaxed as he shares his memories of his childhood and his hobbies. (Y/N) actually gets excited about his writing and his songs, which he blushes in response. He promises them he’ll sing a song or two sometime right before they finally reach the gates to the House of Lamentation.

It’s a scary sight, straight out of an old horror film. The towers of the mansion pierce the dark Devildom sky like spears, with windows glowing like cat eyes. Bushes and vines line the iron gates like haunting hands. Crows line each post on the gates, as if they were standing guard. Oliver couldn’t help but feel watched at every movement. His legs start to tremble uncontrollably.

(Y/N) pulls out a key and unlocks the gate. The lock hisses as the gate swings open in front of them.

“Home sweet home!”


	8. Karaoke

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> MC and Oliver have a little party in MC's room!

From the outside, the House of Lamentation was a haunted mansion. Inside, it was a castle from a twisted fairy tale. Paintings of the Seven Brothers stare at those who enter from the walls, especially the center one of Lucifer. Two staircases twist along the sides of the entrance hall, leading to the other wings. As Oliver marvels at the sight, (Y/N) tugs at his sleeve and laughs.

“You look like you’re about to drool,” (Y/N) says.

“Sorry,” Oliver looks at them. “I studied art history back in London. This is never like anything I could ever imagine being in Hell.”

“Haha, you should see Lucifer’s study,” (Y/N) says as the two walk up the stairs. “It’s like a mini museum!” 

As they walk down the hallway, Oliver spies several other paintings depicting events he’s heard in class - Lucifer in his glory fighting along his brothers against the angels in Heaven. Some scenes were too graphic and violent for Oliver to look at. He returned to face (Y/N) and gulped.

“What are these ‘pacts’ that you mentioned before?”

(Y/N) sighs and stops at a door, which Oliver assumed to be theirs. They open it, and Oliver is amazed at how… calm the room is. Fairy lights are hung above the bed, which is full of soft cushions and pillows that make Oliver want to sink in and sleep forever. A tall tree-like plant sits by the bed. Books line the shelves on the walls. A faint cinnamon and lavender smell greets the humans as they enter. (Y/N) takes off their uniform jacket and collapses on the bed. Then they sit up and pat the empty space next to them, inviting Oliver to do the same. He accepts, and his face meets the softness.

They both lay on the bed in silence for a minute until (Y/N) finally speaks.

“It all started when I heard someone calling for help from the attic.” They go on to tell the story, and they describe the tasks and challenges they had to do to get a pact with each brother. Oliver listened to how they risked their life to mend the bonds between the brothers, and at one point actually died when Belphegor betrayed them. He gasped at how (Y/N) discovered they are a descendant of Lilith, the eighth sibling who died during the Celestial War. (Y/N) continued and explained how they survived by bending timelines with the help of Barbatos, Diavolo’s butler. 

“So...you’re saying…” Oliver tries to understand the time sequence. “You died, but you were sent back in time to find out how Belphegor was released, and you discovered, it was you the whole time because you were Lilith’s descendant?” He draws imaginary lines in the air with his fingers, as if trying to trace the logic himself. 

A moment of pause. They burst out laughing. 

“Nothing here makes sense, none of it,” Oliver wipes a tear off his cheek. He can’t remember the last time he laughed this hard. 

“It really doesn’t, huh,” (Y/N) agrees. “Not even the part where we fell here makes sense. How did you get here again? You died?”

“I thought I did, but all I was doing was walking to band practice.”

“You were in a band?” 

“Yeah!”

“What kind of band?”

“Ahh, punk? Rock? We started when we were wee kids, so we just covered songs we liked. We had the basic rock essentials: a drummer, bassist, and guitarist who also was the singer. The original songs we wrote were a sort of indie punk, I guess.”

“That’s so cool!”

“Haha, thank you.”

“What part were you?”

“I was the bassist and supporting singer. All my friends said I should have been the main singer, but I’m not that great.” He blushes nervously. He misses his friends.

“Bullshit!” (Y/N) hops off the bed and rummages through their desk. Paper, pens, and books fly everywhere until they finally stop and turn around with a small machine connected to a cord. In (Y/N)’s other hand is what’s on the other end of the cord: a microphone.

“Let’s do some karaoke!” Their eyes glitter in excitement. Oliver’s eyes widen and he smiles.

  
  


Weekends are the BEST!!!

Meeting up with his lovely fans after school always boosted Asmo’s mood, but at the end of the week they get more excited to spend that night endlessly partying! He left them quickly promising to return so they can all go clubbing later - he just had to change out of his uniform first. 

He spotted Lucifer giving a lecture to his other brothers at the academy gates. Perfect! Depending on how pissed off Lucifer is, that lecture will go on for at least an hour - plenty of time for Asmo to sneak out of the House and go clubbing! He just has to hustle, quickly!

He almost flew through the House gates and up the stairs to his room. He changed into his skin-flattering evening attire and was about to sneak out when he noticed something: music playing in (Y/N)’s room. 

Oh? (Y/N) is home already? And playing music by themself? Interesting. 

Asmo struts over to the door. He presses an ear and listens. He hears a recording of a song that starts with a weird mix of a bass, a drum, and clapping. Someone, definitely not (Y/N), and definitely not part of the recording, starts singing.

> “Yeah,
> 
> I'm the new truth, the crypto
> 
> E'rybody peep the info
> 
> Look how I switch the zip code
> 
> The bedrock, flip the flintstones
> 
> You like the way I move my body
> 
> Take control, Illuminati
> 
> I'm the baddest at the party for sure
> 
> I'm like the drink that you've been sipping
> 
> I'm the spice that you've been missing
> 
> Good as gold, baby I'm ready to go
> 
> Oh baby, take a look at me
> 
> Oh baby, do you like what you see?
> 
> Oh baby, take a look at me
> 
> 'Cause I'm the hottest motherfucker that you've ever seen”

“Who is this?” Asmo wonders. The voice is ... **_good_ ** . So deep yet soft, yet rough and exciting, like an amazing one-night stand. Each note that the voice hit sent a chill down Asmo’s spine. The song was short, but Asmo wanted more. He wanted to open the door to see the voice’s owner. In fact, it’s  _ his _ house, he can go in if he really wanted to-

Voices echo in the entrance hall. One sounds angry, and is getting closer and closer. Lucifer.

Asmo runs down the hall and into the bathroom - he opens the window, slips out, and slams it shut.

“I’m coming, my lovelies!”

  
  
  


The song finishes, and (Y/N) claps. 

“That was AWESOME!!!” they exclaim. “Let’s do a duet now!!”

“Haha, thank you!” Oliver blushes, and looks at the karaoke machine. The two lost track of time in their excitement, and almost didn’t hear the knock at the door.

“Who is it?” (Y/N) asks. But the door already opens. Lucifer, Mammon, and the other brothers stand in the doorway.

“I only knocked as a polite gesture.” Lucifer stares at the two humans as if they were vermin. “You have some explaining to do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song is "Hot" by Confetti!! An absolute banger!


End file.
